The yellow couch
by Randomnumber
Summary: rated pg for very mild swearing. This is the story of how the Bebop crew came across the yellow couch. Please reveiw thanks and enjoy


Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop and if I did I wouldn't admit it while writing a comical fan-fiction. If you are wondering I do not own couches, Prozac, or any animals that were mentioned in this fic. However I do own Happy Mart, Bread (you'll see), and Cattia isn't mine but in fact she exists. Also due to complaints I shall not accept any further complaints. Thank you and please have a nice day  
-written by the one with the  
one dead eye_  
  
Spike was sleeping on the faded, yet comfortable, blue couch when a certain smell intruded upon his dormant mind. *hmmm smoke, wonder where it's coming from* "JET. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Spike hollered at the top of his lungs without even opening his eyes. Jet was in the Bebop's kitchen making the regular kind of bell peppers and beef, mostly due to the fact that the two bounty hunters had just brought in a decent sized catch.  
"I'M COOKING," yelled back Jet "WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW?"  
"QUIT BURNING THE FOOD THEN. YOU'RE COOKING IS BAD ENOUGH AS IT IS." quipped back the green haired lump on the couch.  
"WHAT!" Jet was furious, he knew Spike didn't like his cooking, but this was the limit. Jet pounded his way into the Bebop's lounge/prisoner storage area while yelling, "SPIKE, HOW ABOUT SOME GOD DAMN GRATTITUDE FOR A CHANGE. I ACTUALLY HAD MEAT TO USE THIS TIME AND IT'S NOT .." Jet couldn't finish his sentence due to the scene of chaos he witnessed upon his entrance into the room. Spike was lying on the ancient blue couch, the couch was burning merrily and the newspaper on Spike's head was beginning to catch. Jet looked at the table and saw all the paperwork he had collected on the next bounty had also caught on fire.  
"JET DON'T YELL AT ME JUST 'CAUSE YOU'RE A BAD COOK. I CAN SMELL IT BURNING!" screamed the oblivious Spike as the ever stoic Jet squealed like a girl and ran for the fire extinguisher that he had next to his bonsai. "Jet there is no need to get that upset I'm sure it's still edible" Spike consoled what he thought was a very distraught man as his hair began smolder. Spike began to sit up removed the burning newspaper, and stretched without opening his eyes. Suddenly Jet was back, fire fighting device in hand.  
"ARRRHHHHHHHH" yelled Jet as though the sound would put out the fire. Spike meanwhile had decided that Jet needed some time off of cooking duty. As though perfectly timed by a malicious entity, Jet used the fire extinguisher just as Spike opened his eyes.  
  
************two hours and several choice words later***************  
  
"Okay Jet what's the damage?" asked Spike referring mainly to the bill that the repairs would cost. At the moment Jet was busy trying to eat the remains of the now burnt dinner. Jet in response to Spikes seemingly stupid question merely growled and tried to choke down more of the inedible charcoal. "What is this going to cost us?" asked spike again. Jet put down the fork he was using and looked at his partner. "We can do without the newspaper and the damage to the actual ship is just some scorch marks., but we need a new vid screen if we are gonna catch anymore bounties posted on Big Shot." "What about the couch?" "What couch! We have no couch! We have a pile of smoldering chunks of cushion, springs, and wood!" yelled Jet. "Hey it's not like I wanted the couch to catch fire," retorted Spike calmly. "You shouldn't smoke while you sleep then," Jet visibly controlled himself and slowly said, "In any case we don't have a couch now so, yeah, we're gonna have to buy a new one." With that said Jet stood up and ran his hand over his head. Spike sat up from his position of lying on the floor and looked at Jet. "Heading out now?" asked the lanky bounty hunter. "Might as well, we can't find out about any bounties on Big Shot, and I'm getting nothing through my contacts with the ISSP." "Alright then pick me up something edible while you're out," yawned Spike before settling himself on the floor again. "Oh no, You're coming with me," Jet firmly stated "You spent the most time on the couch, you used the vid screen the most, and it was your cigarette that started the fire. Therefore, you are responsible, and you're coming to help." Spike merely sat up and looked at Jet dejectedly, knowing that it was useless to argue. "Yes, Mom." ********************In a random shopping outlet on Mars**************** Jet knew that this was the worst day of his life. It didn't matter that he would have other days, and it didn't matter that they could be bad. Jet knew that no matter how bad those other days could be that this would be the worst. The two intrepid shoppers had searched through three stores already, and while they did manage to find a vid screen that as Spike put it "would do" they had yet to find a couch that would: a, look good b, fit in the area that the other couch did c, was comfortable, and d, a couch that as Spike so rightly put it "was dirt cheap". The two bounty hunters being both men, and quite masculine men at that, both agreed that color didn't matter, but as the; hyperactive girl receptionist (or as Spike put it Little Miss Prozac), none too helpful male receptionist (Mister uhhh this couch is nice), or the scarily friendly male receptionist (Spikes description of him won't be mentioned) you just had to have a couch that matched your color scheme. Needless to say the gunmetal color scheme of the Bebop always led to the most expensive couch at that particular store, no matter that each couch was a different color than the ones suggested at the next store. The store that they were at now (Spike merely grunted disgustedly at the name HappyMart) was staffed by several people, but the crew of the Bebop was awarded with a young man whose nametag said either Fred or Dead. The poor young man also seemed like he was a victim of shell shock, twitching oddly at various moments (Spike was considering naming this one Ritalin Candidate A). The young man was being quite helpful actually, mused Jet, Fred (Jet seriously hoped that was his name) had led the intrepid space cowboys to many frugal choices. Unfortunately, when Spike gave each couch his ultimate test (namely sitting in the couch in different positions) he declined them all. Jet would have said no to the couches anyway, namely because none of them fit the space that the old couch did. Finally, Jet got fed up. This was the result of screaming babies, haggling mothers, and stupid people in general. Not to mention, that the couch search alone has taken four and a half hours.  
"Look Fred," Jet said in his best stern father voice while grasping the young man by the shoulder, "you've been really helpful and all, but as I've said we need a couch that is 6' wide and two' deep. Now if you can't show us some couches that size at decent prices we're going to leave. Got it." Fred's twitches grew a little worse as the teenager visibly whitened.  
  
Shocked silence passed as Spike added "And they better be damn comfortable too." Fred's eye started to water and he started to sniffle. It would seem that Spike's statement was the straw that broke the camels back. Jet had just given up on this day getting any better as Fred opened his mouth and managed his first unstammered sentence in the presence of the intimidating men.  
"You two are the most picky and controlling people I've ever tried to help in this godforsaken store, and my name isn't Fred you moron it's Bread!" with that said the twitchy young man burst into wailing tears and ran towards the door. Jet merely stared in horror at the fleeing form.  
"Geez Jet, you didn't have to make him cry like that did you?" Spike said eliciting a stare of disbelief from the balding bounty hunter. Just as Jet was about to lay into his partner another sales clerk came up to the odd couple-like pair. Jet had barely enough time to identify her beautifully scripted name of Helen and notice that she seemed to be in charge before she lit into the duo.  
"SIR! If you would be so kind to leave my store and never return again I would be the most gracious person on earth. Not only are you two miscreants scaring away customers but you are also scaring my employees. I'm not sure but I think you mere presence is taking away from the value of my merchandise (by now Spike had identified this one as the Wicked Witch of the West, witch pronounced differently of course,). So Sirs I ask you to leave now before I throw you out." Helens yelled in a voice that reminded Jet of both breaking glass and the scraping of silverware. Jet sighed in defeat and started towards the door with spike at his side.  
"Hey Jet, can you believe that after saying that she's back to buttering up customers already." Spike whispered while gesturing to the side where Helen was in fact buttering up a young blond woman. Jet merely sighed again and resigned the day to chaos.  
  
Jet and Spike were both tired of looking for a couch. Spike had stopped being as critical of the merchandise after the run in with the Wicked Witch, but even still the two men had yet to find a decent couch at a decent price. They had walked to four more stores and both of the bounty hunters decided that this was one hunt that they could give up.  
"Jet" Spike said sounding more tired than he did after bringing down a murderer, "I give up, we are not gonna find a couch today." Jet merely grunted his assent and turned right on the next street, heading back to the Bebop. The two were passing through what Jet would call the bad part of town and Spike would call the slums. They had walked a couple more blocks since they ended the search when out of a dark alley a small blond woman jumped out at them. Both Jet and Spike jumped back almost instinctively going for a weapon, but when the two space cowboys saw that she was unthreatening they calmed.  
"Hey, well now would either of you two gentlemen be interested in food, pets, paint, supplies, or furnishings?" the blond woman quickly rattled off before she could be dismissed. Spike was trying to remember where exactly he had seen this girls face before when his partner spoke up.  
"What kind of furnishings are we talking about here?" questioned Jet with a skeptical look on his face.  
"At Cats Emporium we have everything from table lamps and desks, to inflatable couches!" Blondie, Spike had temporarily given her this name, spoke determined to make a deal.  
"How about a couch about 6' wide and 2' deep?" Jet asked a flicker of hope in his eyes. The woman pulled out a pocket pda and began typing on it frantically.  
"Why yes we do have two couches that are that size would you like to see them?" the woman spoke up after a minute. Spike was getting disturbed, was Jet actually going to buy a couch off the side of the street from a complete stranger who had just appeared out of a dark alley.  
"SURE!" Jet nearly bellowed in his excitement, and he began to follow the woman a little into the alley. Spike followed slowly so as not to be taken off guard; he still couldn't place the small blond in his memory and until he could he wasn't about to trust her, he knew too many evil people. After walking a bit into the alley the woman opened a door to the right and walked in. Jet blinking from the sudden light change followed her and was completely stunned by what he saw before his eyes. The room was about the size of a small warehouse and was almost completely filled with all kinds of things. Spike looked around calmly as Jet gawked at the Hodge Podge of items. He elbowed Jet in the ribs.  
"Look they really do have inflatable couches," Spike said pointing. Jet shook his head in wonderment and resumed following the now almost magical seeming woman. She led the intrepid men on a long serpentine path through the assorted crates and objects until they came to a small clump of couches and stopped. "Well here we are the couches. and right here," she said gesturing, "are the two couches I mentioned." Jet marveled moment was akin to Galahad finding the Holy Grail for him. There right in front of him were two couches both of them were marked as costing fewer than 150 wulongs and both of them were the right size. Jet's moment of peace was over and he resumed his inspection of the couches. One was kinda square and seemed to be made of a yellow pleather material. All in all, Jet thought that the couch didn't look too comfortable. The other couch was much better, it was rust colored and seemed to be almost bursting with stuffing materials. It was too good to be true, Jet didn't like that. He had found out when he was in the I.S.S.P. that when something is too good to be true it usually is.  
"How exactly did you come by these, and why are they so cheap?" Jet asked feigning wonderment.  
"Oh! Well you see I buy the stuff from specialty stores that overstock. That way I can get them pretty cheap. So from there I just pass the savings onto my customers," she replied brightly with a huge smile. Spike had sauntered over to the couches and was currently looking them over close up.  
"Sounds like you could make a killing," Spike remarked absently.  
"I do!" Blondie replied beaming at the praise.  
"Then why do you deal out of an alley?" said Jet, sure that he had found the flaw in the deal. The woman turned surprised as Jet looked in her direction. Spike meanwhile had just sat in the overstuffed couch and was currently making odd faces of discomfort. Spike quickly stood up and silently looked at the seat of his pants, and found it wet with an unknown liquid.  
Throughout Spikes entire unfortunate discovery the woman locked eyes with Jet thoroughly insulted. "I do not deal out of an alley. I deal from in here I have the main gate open from 8 to 8. I was leaving for home when I saw you guys again," she said angrily.  
"Huh..What do you mean again?" Jet said scratching his bald head.  
"I saw you guys having trouble at Happy Mart," she said blandly. Jet silently "oh"ed as Spike began patting down the yellow couch.  
"Well. Okay uhm thank you for your help I think we will buy one of your couches." Jet said. He turned to Spike "How about it bud?"  
"The yellow one." Spike grated angrily  
"Huh.. the yellow one?" Jet said disbelieving as Spike nodded. "Okay." Jet paid the woman and promised he would return shortly to pick up the couch. As Jet left the warehouse Spike sat on the uncomfortable looking yellow couch, pleased to note no squishing. The blond woman tried to start a conversation with the green haired angst factory but Cattia (as Spike found her name to be) only received angry glares in return. Presently, Jet returned with the Hammerhead and fifteen bungee cords. Spike and Jet managed to get the couch bungeed to the ship with out any remarkable happenings, and before they left Cattia made Jet promise not to take the "scary guy" with him if he ever returned.  
  
Spike was trying to sleep on the surprisingly comfortable yellow couch when a familiar smell assaulted him. *hmm smoke wonder where it's coming from...SHIIIITTT!* Spike spasmodically jumped off the couch and quickly surveyed the situation. Couch: not burning Cigarette: unlit in his mouth Hair: not smoldering Smoke: present but coming from somewhere else  
"Hey Jet!" Spike hollered.  
"Yeah!" came the reply from the workroom.  
"What are you doing?" Spike said trying to keep the irony from his voice.  
"Clipping bonsai while waiting for the food to..crap!" Jet said while walking in to the living area clippers still in hand. 


End file.
